


Anywhere You Are

by sunfair



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Teen Angst, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfair/pseuds/sunfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dex goes home for winter break, and Chowder and Nursey show up to surprise him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere You Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mlle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlle/gifts).



> This is approximately 54% William Poindexter character study and 46% freshman boys touching each other. Just so you know what you're getting into.
> 
> Thank you to blackbird and Schuyler for the endless encouragement, suggestions and direction.
> 
> With endless gratitude, as ever, to Ngozi for the incredible world of Samwell and its Men's Hockey Team.

Coming home for winter break doesn’t exactly go how Dex expects it to. It’s nice to be home of course, to see his parents and his older brother, to sleep in his own bed again. He wakes up to affectionate cuddles from his dog, and the familiar sounds and smells of breakfast rising from the kitchen. He dumps his entire suitcase of unwashed laundry in the basement when he gets in, and it reappears the next afternoon, clean and folded and stacked on his bed, with the specific scent of fabric softener he hadn’t even realized he’d missed.

All of that is great. Not so great is that he only has one day off, and then it’s right back to work.

It’s not like it’s difficult, running the rentals and concessions stand at the local skating rink. It’s a lot less labor-intensive than his summer job, pulling lobster traps, emptying and resetting them. It’s kind of boring though, selling candy and soda and the occasional hot dog, and it leaves him a lot of time to think. He’s not really prepared for how his few months away at Samwell seem to have slowly, imperceptibly altered him. He can’t quite figure out why he feels slightly out of place now in the only place he’s ever known as home. It’s like trying to stack two pieces of paper that aren’t exactly the same size, so they never really quite line up.

Dex sighs and adjusts his oblong paper food service hat, scratching behind his ear. There’s a recreational youth hockey league practicing on the ice; Dex used to be one of them, years ago. He watches as they slip and scramble and knock the puck around, just trying not to fall down. In a few minutes all of them will descend upon the concessions stand for hot chocolate and homemade Needhams, and that will be the most eventful part of Dex’s morning.

He starts to actually miss Samwell a few days later. It’s disorienting, because he’s so certain that if he were still on campus, he’d be missing home like he did all semester long. But somehow he misses his dorm room, the computer lab, the Haus; he even misses Faber and the ritual of morning practice and team breakfast. He didn’t even know it was possible to be caught like that, suspended somehow between one location and another, and he’s not sure what to do about it.

On his phone there’s a group text for the whole team, which tends to be more about general announcements, and then there’s a group text with all the d-men, that occasionally blows up all at once with dozens of messages and then goes silent again. Then there’s a group that Bitty created for himself, Dex, Chowder and Nursey. Back at school it was mostly Bitty who used it, sending them reminders and asking about their finals and inviting them to the Haus for baked goods. That’s the group Dex picks during his next long shift at the skating rink, tapping out a hello and tentative inquiries as to how everyone is doing.

Chowder replies first, all caps lock and exclamation points and enthusiasm, so perfectly Chowder that Dex has to smile. Bitty asks him how work is going, and Dex can’t even remember if he told Bitty he’d be working over break, but Bitty just knows anyhow. Bitty’s great like that. Dex is a hundred percent sure being a frog would be much, much worse if Eric Bittle weren’t around.

Nursey doesn’t reply to any of his messages, and Dex tries not to read too much into that, but it’s hard not to. Dex has never met anyone as frustrating and infuriating as Derek Nurse in his entire life. If asked, Dex doubts he could explain it; Nursey just instantaneously set Dex on edge, from their very first meeting on the tadpole tour. All semester long it was little stuff—the way Nursey interrupted him just to argue, the way he’d crowd against Dex even if there was enough room for both of them to sit comfortably, and his practically incessant, snide chirping that never failed to make Dex’s blood boil. Dex tried—really tried to get along with Nursey for the sake of the team, but it took so much energy and effort, compounded by the fact that Nursey didn’t seem to care one bit how he upset Dex on a near daily basis. They had a huge blow up during finals week; Dex can’t even remember what started it, but it had ended with both of them throwing their sticks and wrestling up against the boards with fistfuls of each other’s practice jerseys, trading insults through clenched teeth and helmets until Holster managed to pry them apart. Dex still doesn’t know what was worse in the aftermath: Jack’s silent fury or Bitty’s dismal disappointment.

At the time, Dex couldn’t wait to leave Samwell, and Nursey, without addressing it further. By Christmas Eve however, anxiety starts to creep in, making him restless in his room at night, blinking cluelessly at the digital clock on his dresser. They have practice again in four days, and Dex wonders endlessly about how that’s going to go, turning possibilities over in his mind. He oscillates between determination to put their disagreements behind him, to be the bigger person—new year, new semester, fresh start—and outright frustration that he should have to be the one to make amends without any effort on Nursey’s part whatsoever.

The day after Christmas is his last shift. The snow falls relentlessly, and the skating rink is practically deserted. Dex wears his new coat in to work; it was his main present from his parents, along with some other stuff he needed, like socks and sweaters. It’s a really great coat, long and warm with a hood, one that’ll probably last him at least through graduation.

When the day winds down and the sun disappears, Dex still has an hour left of his shift before he has to lock up, and the place is empty. He abandons the concessions booth and slips his new coat on, grabbing up the bag with his skates, and makes his way to the ice.

There are no nets set up, because it’s an open skate day, not a rec league practice day, but Dex does some sprinting anyhow, taking deep breaths of cold air. He races from one end of the ice to the other, turning and stopping fast enough to throw a shower of snow before taking off again. His quads and his glutes complain a little, but he keeps pushing, thinking the whole time about returning to practice, determined not to let the break set him back. Overhead, there’s the tinny drone of Christmas music on the PA speakers, and the searing illumination of the fluorescent lights.

He’s so caught up in his own concentration that he fails to notice right away that he has company. It’s not until he zips past the entrance gap and gets startled by flailing arms and an incoherent shout that he falters in his stride and spins wildly, coming to a quick halt, managing somehow to stay upright.

“Sorry!” Dex says immediately, recognition following quickly on the heels of his apology as he looks over. “Chowder!?”

It is in fact Chowder waving at him, beaming excitedly, bundled up in a puffy coat, hat and gloves, practically bouncing. Dex skates over, confused and elated all at once, skidding to a stop before stepping off the ice.

“What in the world are you doing here?” Dex grins.

Chowder just throws his arms around Dex, hugging him fiercely around his middle. Dex’s grin falters when he finally sees past Chowder, discovering Nursey standing there a few feet behind him. Their eyes meet for a brief second, and then Nursey drops his gaze to the floor, his expression neutral but his arms folded. Weeks old frustration bubbles right back up and Dex feels his face grow warmer.

“We missed you so we came to visit, I hope that’s okay?” Chowder says. “I didn’t know you were only a couple of hours from Samwell! Wow, that’s so convenient. So this is where you work, huh?” Chowder finally drops his arms, shuffling back a half a step, looking around.

“Yeah,” Dex says, low and quiet. He glances over at Nursey again and Nursey takes a step toward him.

“Hey,” he says tentatively.

“Hi,” Dex says, short and perfunctory, tucking his hands into his pockets. He wants to sit down and take his skates off but it would mean walking past Nursey.

“Did you have a good Christmas, Dex? You didn’t have to work the whole time, did you? Nursey picked me up at the airport earlier, he got a _car_ for Christmas,” Chowder says, all awe and amazement.

“You got a car?” Dex sputters in disbelief.

“Yeah!” Chowder replies, glancing between them. “’Swawesome, right?”

“Not—no,” Nursey interjects, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s not really like—you know. I just. My parents got a new one and they don’t need this one anymore, so.”

“Pretty sure that counts as you getting a car.” Dex tries to keep the resentment out of his words, but fails spectacularly. His thoughts start racing a mile a minute, and then he just starts talking, no filter. “So then what? So then you thought hey, you know what would be hilarious? Let’s go see Dex, at his dumb little job, and show off my new fucking car.”

“What? Dex, no!” Chowder exclaims, his mouth falling open.

“You really think that’s why I’m here?” Nursey says, his eyes narrowing.

“No, no—Dex, it was my idea—” Chowder begins.

“Dunno,” Dex says sharply, tension rolling through him. “You tell me.”

“Guys, come on, stop—”

Nursey shakes his head, huffing out a bitter laugh. “Why are you so determined to hate me, Poindexter?”

“Like you make it hard.”

“Guys! No, come on!” Chowder tries again, raising his voice.

“Tell me how I make you hate me, then,” Nursey challenges, stepping closer. “I would love to know why it’s so easy for you. Feel free to be specific.”

“Nursey, stop,” Chowder says, and puts himself between them, holding his hands up. “Dex—don’t. You can’t fight, okay? We’re supposed to be a team! I made Nursey bring me here so you could _stop_ fighting, not start a whole brand new one, geez.”

“Forget it, Chow,” Nursey says, sounding more disappointed than bitter. “We should just go.”

“Nursey, no, come on,” Chowder says, trying to catch his elbow, but Nursey brushes him off.

Dex frowns, his bristling anger turning over into guilt as he watches Nursey retreat.

“Dex,” Chowder says helplessly.

Dex sighs, biting his lip for a moment, finally speaking just before Nursey turns the corner out of sight.

“Alright, stop,” Dex says.

Nursey goes still but doesn’t turn around.

“Just—wait, okay?” Dex’s heart thuds hard against his ribs as he stares at the back of Nursey’s head, his dark blue beanie. He forces himself to keep talking. “You guys drove all the way up here, so. Okay. Fine. Let’s just start over or something.”

There’s a long moment in which Dex expects Nursey to turn around and keep arguing with him, or laugh at him, or call him names again. When he does turn around though, he doesn’t do any of those things. He doesn’t even look smug; he just looks a little tired, maybe.

“Okay,” Chowder says, breaking the tense silence. “Okay good, is anybody else hungry? Because I just realized I’m super hungry right now.”

Dex keeps his gaze on Nursey, who raises an eyebrow in question.

“There’s, uh. A pretty good pizza place up the road,” Dex offers with a shrug.

“Ooh, pizza. I love pizza. Is that cool with you, Nursey?” Chowder says.

Nursey nods a little. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

Chowder decides to ride with Dex, and Nursey follows them. His new car is actually an SUV, big and black and shiny. Dex keeps glancing in the rear view at the tall headlights, his hands clenching tighter to the steering wheel of his mom’s Ford, and Chowder rambles on incessantly beside him.

The pizza place—Mario’s—has been there since before Dex was born, and he’s pretty sure the red-checkered tablecloths date back at least that far. It’s not something he’s given much thought to in the past; his family and his friends have always come here, especially after weekend hockey games. Sitting in the time-battered vinyl booth across from Chowder and Nursey brings back that weird drifty feeling though, the one where Dex isn’t entirely sure how he fits anymore—if he fits. He suddenly notices everything that’s wrong—the dog-eared menus, the dented napkin dispenser, the way the salt and pepper shakers on the table don’t match.

If Chowder and Nursey notice these things, they don’t mention them. Chowder makes a good case for ordering two baskets of breadsticks, and Dex and Nursey actually manage to agree on pizza toppings with minimal discussion. Once the menus are taken away, they’re left with a silence that borders on awkward. Dex traces the edge of his thumbnail across the tablecloth, following the hatched lines that go from red to pink to red again.

“So have you guys been doing the conditioning plan thing that the coaches gave us?” Chowder asks. “I did, like, some push ups on Christmas Eve before we went to my grandma’s but that’s it. Do you think Coach will be able to tell?”

Dex looks up, meeting Nursey’s gaze across the table. He waits for a second, but then they still manage to start talking at the same time.

“I didn’t—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You first,” Nursey concedes quickly, grinning small.

“I just hate running,” Dex admits. “It’s so boring.”

“Yeah, me too,” Nursey replies. “I haven’t done anything, really.”

“I ate a lot of pie, so that should work out well,” Dex says.

“Ooh, what kind? I love pie. Do they have pie here? We should get some, maybe,” Chowder says. “With ice cream if they have it. I guess I got used to having pie all the time and now it’s been awhile. I’m gonna tell Bitty I miss pie.”

Chowder gets his phone out, and Dex tentatively looks at Nursey again. They share a knowing grin, and Nursey glances fondly at Chowder. The knot in Dex’s chest loosens, just a little.

By the time the pizza arrives, they settle into easy conversation, and it’s almost like the dining hall all over again. Dex’s mom calls, wondering why he didn’t come home after his shift, and he fills her in on the surprise visit.

“So, uh,” Dex says after hanging up. “Do you guys wanna say hi to my mom? She said you should stop by.”

“Yeah! Let’s do that,” Chowder says, looking to Nursey. “That’s okay, right?”

Nursey nods, shrugging at the same time. “Sure, that’s cool.”

It’s snowing again when they walk out to the parking lot, huge fat snowflakes that tumble down quickly. Dex starts his mom’s car and grabs the scraper from the floor, quickly brushing the windshield clean. Beside him, Nursey is trying desperately to reach across the length of his own windshield, using the sleeve of his coat to clear the snow away. Dex grins, passing him the scraper.

“Dude, here.”

“Thanks, man,” Nursey replies, shaking his arm, the snow on his sleeve falling free.

A few feet away, Chowder is twirling slowly on the sidewalk, his face tipped upward, his tongue hanging open. Dex stifles a laugh and nudges Nursey, who turns to look.

“Chowder, what the hell, man,” Nursey says, amused.

“I never get to do this!” Chowder exclaims, and resumes his attempts to collect snowflakes with his tongue, blinking rapidly as they land on his face.

“That there is _your_ goalie,” Nursey says, low and quiet.

“Shut up,” Dex grins. “He’s yours, too.”

It’s not as weird as Dex thinks it could be, having Nursey and Chowder walk into his house. His brother’s truck is gone from the driveway and it’s late enough that his dad is probably in bed. They drop their boots in the pile at the door and hang up their coats and Dex’s dog comes running to greet them. In the kitchen, his mom is making hot chocolate on the stove; a line of four mismatched mugs and a bag of marshmallows are already out on the counter. After polite hellos, Chowder and Nursey pull chairs out from the table, dropping into them, exchanging grins.

“How was work, Billy?” his mom asks.

“It was fine,” Dex replies flatly, taking a seat himself. He’s never felt weird about his name before, but there it is, edges that won’t align. He glances at Nursey first, then Chowder, but neither of them seem to react. “Kinda slow, I guess.”

“I love your house, Mrs. Poindexter,” Chowder says in awe, his gaze wide and searching as he looks around. “It’s really cool.”

“Well, thank you,” his mom replies, sounding proud.

Dex shifts a little, looking down at his hands. Their house is old and small for a Victorian; it’s drafty and the floors creak, the back screen door is busted, and his dad’s been worrying about replacing the roof for a couple of years now. He has no real idea what kind of a house Chowder lives in, but he has a pretty good clue that Nursey’s house is really fancy. So on the scale of cool to not-cool, it’s a good bet that Dex’s house loses. He kind of wishes he could thank Chowder for being so nice about it, though.

His mom sits and has hot chocolate with them, asking Nursey and Chowder about their classes and their families. Dex didn’t even think about the fact that his mom kind of likes poetry until she and Nursey stumble onto the topic. He also had no idea she’d been to California once. It was nowhere near Chowder’s hometown, and long before she ever married Dex’s dad, but still. Dex stays mostly quiet, his knee jogging under the table, letting the conversation wander, until his mom stands up, hiding a half-yawn with her hand.

“You two are planning to stay, aren’t you?” she asks, taking her mug to the sink, running it under the tap. “It’s still snowing like crazy out there.”

Nursey and Chowder glance at each other, exchanging questioning looks.

“I think we’ll be alright to get back,” Nursey says. “But thank you.”

“Well it’s no trouble,” she says. “There’s that futon in the den, you know. Roads will be better tomorrow, once they get the plows on them.”

Dex thinks about Nursey’s SUV, and how there’s not even half a foot of snow out there, and how the clock on the microwave says it’s not even ten yet. They really could get back to Samwell just fine.

“Or you could just stay and I could hitch a ride back with you tomorrow,” Dex says. He means for it to be a joke, but Chowder breaks into a huge surprised grin.

“I didn’t even think about that! That’s a great idea.”

“I was kidding,” Dex tries, but Nursey, like always, talks over him.

“We do have our stuff in the car,” Nursey shrugs.

“Oh, right,” Chowder says. “Yeah, we do.”

“Well then, there’s no reason not to stay,” Dex’s mom grins. “Billy, the extra pillows and sheets are in the—”

“Yeah, I know,” Dex interjects impatiently.

His mom tells them all goodnight, dropping a quick kiss into Dex’s hair on her way out of the room. He flinches a little, shying away from it, his cheeks flushing as he rolls his eyes.

“Dude,” Nursey says softly once she’s gone, nudging Dex’s foot under the table. Dex looks up sharply, bracing himself for ridicule. “Be nice to your mom, bro. She’s great.”

Dex frowns. “I am nice. Shut up.”

“It is really cool of her to let us stay,” Chowder says. “We should get our stuff out of the car, probably, and oh hey, where’s the den at?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” Dex says, pushing himself up to his feet.

They haul in the bags from the car and Dex leads them down to the den in the basement. The door is shut and when he opens it, the room is dark, and significantly colder than the rest of the house.

“My dad must have closed the vents,” Dex frowns. “It—” he stops himself from saying _saves money_ , thinking fast. “Keeps the rest of the house warmer, I guess.”

“It’s okay, we can deal,” Chowder says, but he’s still shivering just from the short trip to retrieve their bags.

“Nah, it’ll take forever to warm up. Why don’t you guys take my room, I’ll stay down here.”

“Bro, no way,” Nursey argues. “We’re not kicking you out of your own room.”

“It’s fine, it’s just one night,” Dex says.

“Let’s just move this futon mattress up to Dex’s room,” Chowder says. “Then Dex gets to keep his bed and no one has to be cold.”

“Chowder, you’re a genius,” Nursey says, throwing an arm around him, pulling him into an awkward side-hug while Chowder cheers quietly.

“Yeah, that should work,” Dex agrees.

It’s a bit of a production, the three of them navigating two flights of steps with a sagging futon mattress, trying to stay quiet so they don’t disturb Dex’s parents. Chowder knocks his elbow on the handrail and makes a sound that brings Dex’s dog running to investigate, which results in all three of them stifling laughter, dropping the mattress in the middle of the stairway.

Eventually they heft it again, wedging it around the sharp corner of the upstairs hallway, pushing it through the door to Dex’s room. There’s just enough space between the long side of Dex’s bed and the wall to shove it onto the floor, and the three of them collapse onto it afterward, breathing hard with exertion.

“Bro, I think this thing has to live here now,” Nursey says. Their shoulders are pressed together, and Chowder is half-draped over him, and Dex huffs out a little laugh.

“I think you might be right,” Dex says.

“Hah,” Nursey exclaims. “You have literally never said that to me. Ever.”

“Shut up, that’s a lie,” Dex replies, trying to elbow him, but unable to shift enough to make it happen.

Chowder scrambles awkwardly, reaching up to get a hand over Dex’s mouth, stretching to clamp the other one over Nursey’s. “Shhh,” Chowder says gently. “You’re ruining it.”

“Ruining what?” Dex tries, the words coming out muffled into Chowder’s palm.

“The moment! Shhh.”

Nursey starts to shake with silent laughter, and Dex grins, glancing over at him.

They eventually move and take turns getting ready for bed, rotating into the bathroom, changing into pajamas. Dex goes last, gazing at his reflection in the mirror over the sink as he brushes his teeth. There’s the faint suggestion of stubble at his chin and above his lip, the result of two and a half days without shaving. On the left side of his forehead there’s a small spot, angry and red, the sort that is pointless to poke at, but Dex tries anyhow, to no avail, only making it worse.

Back in his room, Nursey and Chowder have put sheets and blankets and pillows on the mattress, and Chowder is making something of a production about tucking the covers securely around his feet. Dex kills the light before climbing into his bed, the room plunging into darkness, save the faint glow from the window. They exchange brief goodnights, shifting and settling.

After a couple of minutes of silence, minutes in which Dex blinks up at the ceiling while his eyes adjust, Nursey whispers, “Yo, Poindexter. You awake?”

Dex turns onto his side, moving to the edge of his mattress, peering down to the floor. Nursey is gazing up at him.

“Yeah,” Dex replies. “What?”

“Are we good?” Nursey asks.

Dex blinks, surprised, trying to get a read on Nursey’s face. He must take too long to respond, because Nursey starts talking again.

“Yes or no, man? C’mon.”

“No,” Dex says quickly. “I mean, yeah, obviously, what? Of course we are. Obviously.” His pulse kicks up and Dex tucks his arm close to his chest.

“That shit during finals,” Nursey says, his voice going even softer, so that Dex has to strain to hear him. “I was out of line with that. I went to your dorm to talk to you about it but I guess you were already gone.”

“It’s fine,” Dex says. “Everyone was stressed. I was stressed, too.”

Nursey just looks at him for a moment, and Dex looks back. He watches the flicker of his gaze, catches the flash of the tip of his tongue as it darts out over his lower lip.

“Alright,” Nursey says eventually. “G’nite.”

“Night,” Dex replies.

He’s barely rolled onto his back again when Chowder stirs and says, “Group hug, you guys.”

There’s a significant _oof_ from Nursey, and when Dex turns to look, Chowder’s sprawled over him, reaching toward Dex, grabbing his elbow and giving it a hard tug.

“Hang on—okay, just—” Dex tries to balance as he’s pulled forward, slipping headfirst toward the floor.

“Chowder, I swear to Christ,” Nursey says, sounding strained.

“Sorry! Just one hug,” Chowder pleads.

There’s a small struggle in which Chowder pulls on Dex, who tries desperately to hang on to the edge of the bed. Nursey complains loudly about Chowder’s bony elbows, and Dex finds himself overtaken by laughter, weakening the work his abs are doing to keep him upright. Eventually he just gives in, lets himself fall, and slides into a heap right on top of Nursey and Chowder.

“Yay,” Chowder cheers, somewhere under the grunts of Dex and Nursey.

For a moment, it’s almost nice, the awkward tangle of limbs and Nursey warm and solid beneath him and Chowder’s hair smashed against his cheek. Dex smiles and lets his eyes close and then there’s more wild squirming, stifled laughter and knees knocking together and then a distinct punch to his shoulder.

“Ow, fuck,” Dex says, hitting Nursey’s arm in retaliation. “Don’t hit me.”

“You kicked me first, asshole,” Nursey replies, the lilt of amusement in his tone.

“Noooo,” Chowder says, in the same way he does when he’s losing at FIFA, trying to hold on to both of them.

Being on top should give Dex some sort of wrestling advantage, but Chowder has a death grip on one of his arms and Nursey manages to clamp a hand around his other wrist, and he can’t seem to find any leverage amidst the writhing.

Dex makes a sound of frustration, growling against the collar of Nursey’s t-shirt.

“Bro,” Nursey says, keeping a tight hold of his wrist. “Just chill.”

A flare of annoyance makes him clench his teeth, but then Chowder slides an arm around his middle, nuzzling at Dex’s shoulder, and Dex relaxes a fraction.

“There you go,” Nursey says, sounding too much like he’s chirping, but then he’s pressing up against Dex, rolling onto his side, so that Dex ends up tucked between him and Chowder.

Dex squirms uncomfortably, nervous as he gets tangled in the middle of the disheveled blankets, his heart pounding uneasily. One of his shins collides with someone else’s leg and his pajama pants are a little twisted around him, stretched tight at his hips.

“Relax, Poindexter,” Nursey says, low but clearly, and Dex takes a quick breath in as Nursey’s solid chest meets his own, the soft fabric of their t-shirts rustling.

Chowder adjusts so that he can press up against Dex’s back, his arm still hooked snugly around Dex’s waist, and Dex can feel him breathing, the soft exhale of it hitting the bare nape of his neck.

“You’re alright,” Nursey murmurs, and it should be annoying but it just makes Dex go still. Nursey’s face is so close to his own. “Breathe.”

For a long moment that’s all Dex tries to do, attempting to slow the frantic pace of his pulse. Chowder is clinging tightly to him from behind and Nursey slowly lets go of his wrist, trailing his touch up to Dex’s elbow before sliding an arm around him too.

Dex swallows tightly, still feeling winded, his mind scrambling to process the fact that he’s _cuddling_ with his teammates on the floor of his bedroom. He’s flushed and a little twitchy, unsure if he should move, one arm tucked tight beneath him, the other folded and resting tentatively against Nursey’s.

“See?” Nursey says quietly, and Dex blinks his eyes open, not having realized he’d shut them.

“What?” He can’t see anything except the wide gaze of Nursey’s eyes, the thick lines of his eyebrows. It’s the same as a few minutes before, but magnified by ten. He risks a glance downward, to check if Nursey is smirking, making fun of him, but he’s not.

“Hugs are nice,” Chowder murmurs, answering Dex’s question, and his arm tightens around Dex’s middle.

Dex considers it for a moment. It’s not like he’s had extensive cuddling experience, outside of being a little kid and being sick and his mom taking care of him, which doesn’t really count. Dex and his brother have definitely exchanged more punches than hugs, though they’ve settled into a tentative alliance now that they don’t live in the same house all the time. His first semester at Samwell wasn’t exactly a social explosion either; Dex certainly met more people his first two weeks there than he’d ever known in his entire life, but he never actually cuddled any of them.

He worries briefly that it’s yet another thing that makes him weird, like his big ears, his red hair, or how he has freckles even in places he’s sure the sun has never touched. Maybe he’s just no good at—belonging somewhere, or with anyone, even for a few minutes. He doesn’t want that to be true, though.

“You’re so comfy,” Chowder says with a sigh, sounding content and sleepy.

Dex slowly turns his face upward, even though he can’t really look at Chowder from over his shoulder. “You think?”

Chowder nods—Dex hears it as a rustle against the pillowcase—and then Chowder presses his face against Dex, the nudge of his nose just above the top of his t-shirt, a cold point at his spine followed by the warm, continuous press of lips. Chowder hums in agreement, _mm-hmm_ , and Dex feels it more than he hears it, a buzz that sends a spark of excitement all the way to his toes. Nursey shifts just slightly, just enough to duck his head and erase the scant inches between their faces, his forehead tucking up against Dex’s cheek.

The tension leaves Dex's body gradually, thin threads unwinding from a spool, and he lets himself relax into the press of Chowder at his back and the solid warmth of Nursey in front of him. He can feel both of them breathing steadily, their alternating exhaling warm against his skin. They hardly move from there, just small adjustments of loosened limbs, and Dex is drawn into sleep.

When he wakes up he can’t feel the arm he’s laying on, and Chowder is not quite snoring but it’s close. Dex has no idea how long they’ve been asleep but it’s still dark outside, the same faint glow of moonlight present at the window. Nursey is still cuddled up as close as he can get and there’s no way Dex can move without disturbing him. He tries curling a hand at Nursey’s shoulder, gentle pressure to get him to move back maybe, because besides his arm being numb, Dex’s dick has decided to rise to full attention while the rest of him was unconscious. It’s trapped in the twisted stretch of his pajama pants and if he can’t do anything about it, Dex is going to need a little bit of air.

Nursey stirs, and Dex goes still, hoping he’ll turn onto his back, and then he’s pretty sure he could manage to extract himself somehow and climb back up into his own bed until morning. Except instead of that, Nursey nuzzles at him like a cat, his cheek sliding slowly across Dex’s face, the rough drag of Nursey’s thick stubble rasping in the quiet.

Dex tightens his grip on Nursey’s shoulder, and Nursey’s arm around him flexes, and then there’s the unmistakable press of Nursey’s mouth, high on his cheek. Dex can’t quite believe that it happened until it happens again, and then again, the gentle push of his lips inching toward Dex’s own as Dex’s breathing goes shallower.

He doesn’t start freaking out, even though distantly he recognizes he probably should be. Nursey’s nose collides with his and Dex closes his eyes and when he tilts his head a little more they’re suddenly kissing, their lips slotting together, pushing firm and warm and startling. He hears his own heartbeat speeding up in his ears, and when Nursey’s knee nudges against his, Dex draws in a sharp breath, his mouth falling open.

Chowder still has a hold of him around his waist, and Dex has no plan for what to do about that, how to explain if they wake Chowder up. He just keeps pressing his lips to Nursey’s over and over, sneaking tight breaths between long, hard kisses, trying to stay mostly still and keep quiet. Nursey’s stronger than him, even in this, and Dex is the one who ends up flicking his tongue at Nursey’s lower lip, asking for more with a faint whimper.

There’s still an outside chance that this could all be one giant prank, that at any moment Nursey could stop everything and start laughing at him. But that tiny nagging worry is easy to dismiss when Nursey shifts again, deepening this kiss, his broad tongue pushing into Dex’s mouth. His dick jumps at the slide of it, the slickness and the sound and the way he has to open up and let Nursey in.

If it wasn’t so hot, it would almost be annoying, how good Nursey is at kissing. From the way he’s making little pleased sounds into Dex’s mouth, Dex hopes maybe he’s not too bad at it, either. He’s still holding on to Nursey’s shoulder, and Nursey leans into him, working his knee between Dex’s, and Dex shudders at the solid flex of Nursey’s thigh parting his own. He rocks his hips forward, choking back a groan as he finally finds some friction.

Something about that—about his dick, Dex thinks smugly—gets Nursey all worked up, his kisses rough and frantic as Dex grinds against him. Nursey bites at his lips, working his fingers up into the sleeve of Dex’s t-shirt, his big hand stretching the fabric to get at Dex’s skin, palming at his shoulder. Dex’s upper lip tingles, his chin stinging from the repeated rub of Nursey’s stubble, and it’s probably going to be obvious in the morning, but not even that thought is enough to make Dex want to stop.

Right as he remembers again that Chowder is still clinging to him—the thought being that it’s possible Chowder could sleep through a war—Dex realizes suddenly that he’s not actually asleep anymore at all. His mouth is full of Nursey’s tongue, so all he can do is whimper at the way Chowder’s arm squeezes tighter around him, and how he shifts against Dex’s back, mouthing at the skin on the back of Dex’s neck.

Dex goes still, his stomach tensing. He expects that to be it then, for the whole thing to stop and for everything to go weird and awkward and awful. But Chowder lifts his head to kiss the side of Dex's neck, near his shoulder, and then Nursey pulls back, shifting his gaze for a brief second before surging forward and grabbing hold of Chowder to kiss him.

Dex can't really move, and Chowder and Nursey are kissing over his shoulder, and they're both pushing against him like there's any possibility of getting closer. When he rocks his hips, grinding against Nursey's thigh again, he drops his mouth on Nursey's throat, sucking at his skin. 

Nursey groans, drawing back enough to find Dex's mouth again, and Chowder moves his hand up under Dex's shirt, stroking his belly for a moment, making him shudder. Chowder slides his touch to Dex's hip and holds on, his fingers sharp even through the soft cotton of Dex's pajamas.

"Fuck," Chowder whispers, low and serious and not like Chowder at all. He nudges his hips up against Dex's backside, and Dex pushes back, encouraging the unmistakable press of Chowder's cock. 

For a moment, it's almost too much, grinding onto Nursey's thigh and Chowder pushing against him from behind and Nursey's mouth sealed to his own while Chowder mouths at his neck. Dex is so hard it hurts, his dick straining in his pants, the slick tip of it leaving a growing wet spot through two layers of cotton.

Nursey pulls away fast, so quick that Dex tenses, a flutter of panic blooming in his stomach. Nursey scrambles up onto his knees, pulling his shirt up and off, dropping it behind him, and Chowder gasps softly.

There's nothing new about shirtless Nursey; they all share a locker room, the whole team have seen one another naked countless times. The difference is that now Dex is allowed to look. His gaze follows the lines of Nursey's torso, from his shoulders down his chest to the plane of his abs, then to the sharp cut of his hips. Nursey's in a pair of grey boxer briefs, his hard cock tenting the front of them, and when he adjusts himself quickly with his hand, sliding the fabric over his dick, Dex has to bite back a groan.

"You like this, Poindexter?" Nursey says with a smirk, low and challenging as he drops to the mattress and moves in close again.

Dex feels his face go warm, watching Nursey carefully, expecting him to keep chirping.

"You do, right?" Chowder asks, all quiet sincerity as Nursey settles again.

Dex swallows lightly. "Yeah."

"Good," Nursey replies. "Me too. Can I touch you?"

Dex just nods and slams his eyes shut, his heart hammering, and Nursey's hand hovers at the waistband of his pajamas, knuckles bumping at his lower belly, pushing his shirt out of the way. Chowder squirms a little behind him, shifting up so he can peer over Dex's shoulder a little better.

"Hey," Nursey says softly, his nose bumping Dex's again before pressing a swift kiss to his lips. He's got his thumb hooked into the elastic of Dex's pants and gives it a little tug.

Dex blinks his eyes open. "What?"

Nursey raises an eyebrow at him and slips his hand in, his fingertips firmly tracing the length of Dex's cock through his underwear.

Dex makes a completely involuntary and embarrassing sound, something between a sigh and a moan, his mouth falling open. With Chowder's help, Nursey gets all the fabric out of the way, pajamas and underwear both shoved down to his thighs, and then it's just the loose curl of Nursey's hand stroking him while Dex tries to breathe.

It's not how he usually touches himself, which is hard and quick and purposeful. Nursey keeps switching it up, pausing and slowing, thumbing over the tip to spread the slickness that keeps pearling there. Chowder has a hand under Dex’s shirt, sliding his touch up and over Dex’s chest, and his hips are still grinding against Dex’s now bare backside. Dex looks down, watching the flushed head of his cock emerge over and over from the ring of Nursey’s thumb and forefinger.

“Harder,” Dex whispers, the word falling out of him, his voice shaking.

Nursey doesn’t argue, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t say anything at all, just tightens his grip and steadies his pace. The thin threads of pleasure Dex’s body was trying to chase convene suddenly, and he groans, watching the blur of Nursey’s hand around him.

Nursey picks that moment to smash his mouth into Dex’s again, and Dex whimpers, giving up on the kiss when his breathing goes too shallow, just making noises against Nursey’s lips until he comes, his cock pulsing and his hips shuddering, making a mess of himself and Nursey too.

“Fuck,” Chowder says again, right by Dex’s ear, and when Dex turns his face toward him, Chowder starts kissing him.

Dex is still catching his breath but Chowder is persistent, holding his face and keeping him in the kiss. Dex shifts, slowly rolling onto his back so the angle isn’t so awkward, and as Chowder moves out of the way to let him, he pauses to quickly pull his shirt off.

Nursey reclines onto his back, shoulder to shoulder on the other side of Dex, and when Dex looks over, Nursey’s touching himself, his boxer briefs pushed down just enough to let his cock free. He’s fisting it slowly, long steady strokes from the base right over the tip. Dex inhales sharply as his cock twitches, the sensation too much too soon, and then Chowder is crawling over him, trying to get to Nursey.

He stays on his hands and knees until he gets there, straddling Nursey’s thighs, and then Dex watches Chowder fold himself over, watches Nursey lift his head to meet him, watches them kiss. They’re both shirtless, shifting restlessly, the long sweep of Chowder’s hair falling forward. Then Chowder sits up, settling back onto Nursey’s thighs, and they scramble a bit to get their hands on each other, to push their underwear out of the way and wrap a hand around each other’s cocks. 

Dex draws his lower lip in with his teeth, his own dick stirring as he watches. Chowder is leaner than Nursey, the muscle definition in his thighs and arms not nearly as pronounced, but he rolls his hips while Nursey touches him, his own hand never wavering as he strokes Nursey hard and fast. It makes Dex think about watching Nursey fuck him, or fucking Chowder himself, letting Nursey watch instead.

Chowder starts breathing harder, little whimpers and moans escaping when he exhales, and then he leans forward, planting the heel of one hand on Nursey’s shoulder to hold himself up.

“Gonna come so soon,” Chowder says, and he sounds wrecked, his voice all strained and desperate.

“Yeah—now,” Nursey says, and then he tips his head back, the first pulse of his cock striping his skin all the way to his chest as he groans.

Chowder works him through it, even as he comes into Nursey’s hand at the same time, all over his fingers and his thumb. 

“Whoa,” Chowder says almost immediately, his arm trembling a little where it’s still holding him up. He shifts his gaze from his hand up to Nursey’s face, breathing hard. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

Dex almost stifles a laugh, too tired to bother to fully silence it.

“Christ, Chowder,” Nursey mutters, but fondly, slowly shaking his head.

*

The early afternoon sun is bright, reflecting sharply off the thick cover of snow. Nursey’s new car is actually really nice, and it rides really smoothly on the highway. He lets Dex pick the road trip music while Chowder sprawls across the back seat, napping.

Dex plugs his iPod in and picks a playlist he’d made back in the fall. He’d played it numerous times his first few weeks at Samwell, and even now it draws up memories of setting up his dorm room, learning his way around campus, and working out at the gym on conditioning days. He glances quickly over at Nursey, who has his eyes glued to the road, and then flips the visor down to check his reflection in the mirror.

His ears still stick out, and the spot on his forehead hasn’t gone away. Aside from the slightest tinge of pink around his mouth, he pretty much looks the same as he always did.

“So vain, Poindexter,” Nursey says, shooting him a grin.

Dex flips the visor up with a snap. “Says the dude whose biggest life goal is to appear in The Swallow.”

“Not biggest. Top ten, maybe.”

“My point stands.”

“Deep down, you wanna be in there with me.”

Dex doesn’t really have an argument for that. “Shut up, Nurse.”

Nursey just smiles, and keeps driving.


End file.
